


Dips and Chips

by ashes0909



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: And Viktor, Coach Victor Nikiforov, Comfort Food, Diversion Sex, Katsuki Yuuri in Russia, M/M, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri Really Loves Food, mentions of past bullying, victor tries his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: Yuuri's absolute favorite snack was waiting for him in the corner of his locker. He wouldn't be able to stop Viktor from following him into the locker room but he could stop him from going into the bathroom stall with him, so Yuuri changed his tactics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cirrha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirrha/gifts).



> This fic was written for Cirrha and the [YOI Charity Auction](https://yoicharityauction.tumblr.com). It is a combination of two of Cirrha's wonderful prompts! I will be updating this and next Sunday. I hope you enjoy.

Yuuri stood in their bedroom staring at the drawer by the bed. The handle was  _ so  _ close to where he lay his head every night for the last few weeks. He always knew what was there waiting for him, his biggest weakness. 

He hadn’t been in Russia long when he discovered the shop three blocks away, tucked into a nearby alley. Beyond an overflowing dumpster and the jingle of a welcome bell, was a store that carried his absolute favorite and greatest temptation: Sour Cream and Onion potato chips. 

Yuuri opened the drawer slowly, quietly, remembering the joy of finding the store. 

From Japan to Detroit to Russia, junk food was his constant companion. One other thing remained consistent as he moved from coach to coach - they all noticed his weakness. They forced him to give up his snacks, stay on a strict diet. He’d endured watchful eyes and shameful comments. Even the coaches and choreographers that “didn’t care” still managed to bring up how weight would affect his quads. They all noticed, eventually. 

All, except Viktor. 

It was ironic, because when Viktor first came to Hasetsu, he’d been more than aware of Yuuri’s weight. The memory of it still carried the hot flush of humiliation whenever Yuuri remembered. Viktor’s simple, obvious observations, how he wouldn’t let him skate until he lost weight, fueled a heat of shame even now.

Vitkor didn’t seem to notice his snacks, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t care. Who knew what he would say, if he actually saw Yuuri eating the chips? Hiding them was better than the constant possibility that he might have to hear the word "piggy" leave Viktor’s lips again. 

“Yuuri! Are you in here?” the man in question greeted him as he walked into the room. Yuuri startled, hand clenching around the crinkly bag, still hidden in the drawer. The sound made Yuuri wince, but Viktor appeared not to notice it, continuing his questions with a bright smile. “Are you ready? I set up the laptop so we should be able to watch now!” 

Still frozen with his hand in the drawer, Yuuri watched Viktor bounce from excitement like only he seemed to do. It was easy to conclude Viktor didn’t suspect anything. And why would he? It was Yuuri’s bedroom too. Not a place he needed to sneak around. 

His stomach churned guiltily, still yearning for the chips. 

Viktor stepped closer, and Yuuri’s focus shifted. Under Viktor’s eyes, there were small, light, and hardly noticeable, but Yuuri had always been a Viktor expert. Those were definitely bags. He wondered if Viktor even noticed. 

Yuuri was probably just seeing things, Viktor was a champion after all. He leaned against the wall, pinning Yuuri with a lovesick smile, not even paying attention to where Yuuri’s hand had slipped away from the chips. Even if he was feeling the effects of the day, Viktor still looked content. 

At least, it looked like he wasn’t yearning to fill an endless hole in his stomach, or following a siren’s call from stashed away bags of potato chips, like Yuuri.

Yuuri's stomach rumbled again. He wanted to bring the bag of chips into the living room, but he knew Viktor would react... he just didn’t know what his reaction would be. Yuuri bit his lip, then ran his hands over his arms, thinking quickly. “I’m a bit chilly, I’ll just get a sweatshirt and I’ll be right out,” Yuuri said.

Viktor’s brow furrowed, and when it looked like his gaze was about to lower to his bedside drawer, Yuuri moved. He dropped the bag with a pang of regret and walked out of the room. 

Viktor would follow, a surreal fact even now, even though they were engaged. And Viktor did follow, walking out of the room and stopping by the laptop, to press play. 

“I thought you were cold.” 

Yuuri grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and gestured to the spot next to him. He wanted his chips, but as far as settling without them went, having Viktor with him was just as much of a treat. “Maybe you can help warm me up?”

“Yuuuri!” Viktor grinned bouncing on his heels as he practically sprawled onto the couch, grabbing the blanket from Yuuri and wrapping them around both of them. “I can  _ definitely  _ help warm you up.”

Yuuri’s potato chips lay abandoned, at least for now. 

####  ~~~

Yuuri wrapped his coat tighter around his shoulders as the wind picked up. He’d only walked to the rink alone once before, but he knew the route and he was trying to convince Viktor that he didn’t need to be by his side day in and day out. 

Viktor trained before Yuuri, so it made sense for Yuuri to use that time cross training at the ballet studio. 

When the door to the rink banged behind him, it sounded loud to Yuuri but not a single skater on or off the ice looked his way. For some reason, it made him feel even more out of place. Back in Detroit, Phichit was a constant presence and the Ice Castle was basically his home. Here, the ice was smooth and the rink beautiful, but he felt more at home in the alley snack store. 

"You'd think coaching and training would improve my stamina," he heard Viktor whine, but not from the ice. 

“This isn’t funny, Viktor.”

Yuuri didn't mean to eavesdrop. The locker room was at the other end of the rink and he had to walk past the stairwell that went up to Yakov's office on his way. The door was open. Yuuri’s coach was sitting across from his own coach, a desk and sour mood between them. “I’m not laughing, Yakov.”

"You need to devote yourself completely." It sounded like a line Yakov had said many times before, because it was. Yuuri had heard it at least a half a dozen times himself. But when he was present, it was never followed by the next sentence Yakov uttered: "Is he really worth it, Viktor? Sure, he can skate. He can skate well. But anyone can coach him--"

Viktor stood up, and he couldn't see the look in Viktor's eye from his angle, but he could see the tense, rigid plane of his shoulders, and the way his fists clenched by his sides like he wanted to reach across the desk with both of his hands. " _ I _ am his coach. No one else."

"Even if it costs you your World Records?"

"I don't have any World Records," Viktor said, voice sharp. "Yet." 

"You won't win them back, when half your focus is on perfecting your rival."

Viktor barked out a laugh, and his demeanor changed completely, throwing back his head like Yakov had said the funniest thing in the world. "Just because you can't do it doesn't mean I can't, Yakov." He was beaming, like he hadn’t just insulted the man, and Yuuri could see that Yakov's stern set of his mouth was breaking in the face of Viktor's incredible ego. "You trained me into a five time World Champion, after all."

Yuuri took a step back, stumbling so that he almost hit the boards. No one seemed to notice him from the ice or the office, but he didn't look back towards the pair as he ran. He didn't want to have to face the fact that maybe they had heard him, even though he was sure his sneakers were soft on the carpet that encircled the rink--still, the locker room door was closed, and Yuuri bolted right to it. 

It wasn't empty. Georgi was in the corner, almost done changing into his skating gear, and Yuuri had to take a deep breath to keep the panic from showing on his face. He wanted to be alone, be able to process what he’d just heard. But all he could do was stalk towards the locker he’d taken to using these past couple weeks.

In his locker was a bag of chips. 

The thought came out of nowhere but it sounded so perfect, because chips didn't care if he was eavesdropping or messing up his hero’s and lover’s career for the rest of his life. If he ate enough chips, Viktor wouldn't even have to train him. 

But Viktor wanted to train him. 

The door closed behind Georgi, and Yuuri was finally alone. He didn't have to pretend he couldn't see the furtive gazes Viktor’s rinkmates were shooting at him. 

Hopefully, Viktor wouldn't come back here. Their routine was that he would meet Yuuri on the ice after his training session. Yuuri had to practice. He pulled open his locker and saw everything he needed to ruin Viktor's life. There was his skate bag, guards, even the water bottle was at fault. 

But he wasn’t ruining Viktor life. Viktor said he wanted to train him. 

The chips weren't right on top of his locker. They never were, he didn’t want to risk someone seeing them. Back in Detroit, having them spotted lead to his rinkmates stealing snacks from Yuuri, once straight from his locker. In Hasetsu, Takeshi used to shame him, call him all sorts of names. Here? He had no idea what would happen, and he didn't want to find out. He was almost certain there was a list of banned foods pinned to the corkboard by Yakov's office, but he’d purposely avoided looking at it. He didn’t have to read it; Yakov seemed to audibly shame anyone who walked in with any processed food. 

Yuuri wrapped his hand around the pile of spare clothes he kept in case he needed extra, and lifted it so softly that the bag didn't even crinkle. He wouldn't eat many, just one or two to leave the taste in his mouth, but not enough that Viktor would see the crumbs or smell the grease, not enough that it would affect the way he skated or make him feel sick. 

Viktor wanted to train him, and Yakov had welcomed Yuuri, but everyone knew that it was a bad idea. Yuuri knew, Yuri and Mila and Georgi probably did too. Yakov certainly did, that was more than clear.

But Viktor? Viktor was as ignorant to his bad decision as he was to Yuuri's snacks, but he grinned at Yuuri every time he entered the rink, like seeing Yuuri skate was the thing that brought him the most joy in the world. So he ate quickly, indulged, but nowhere near as much as he wanted to, because Viktor was waiting. He wanted to train him, who was Yuuri to argue?

####  ~~~

Yuuri’s first competition snuck up on them both and before Yuuri knew it they were on a plane to Japan. It had been hectic leading up to his Nationals and Yuuri hadn't had time to think about the  _ true _ benefits of his home country, until he was through the airport terminal and out the door. Two turns later and he and Viktor were walking through a fish market. 

Food. Filleted fish, sushi, sauces and spices. Meats hung from string, and he was sure he could find a katsudon that almost met his incredibly high standards. Everything his stomach was growling for. Viktor turned to look at him from over his shoulder, a heart-shaped smile in place. "Lunch?"

Yuuri bit his lip, he wanted...but he was also here to prove to the world that Viktor had made the right decision when it came to staying on as his coach. "Do we have time?" he asked, knowing they did not.

"No," Viktor pouted. "Lunch anyway?"

"And miss warmups?"

"This isn’t even a Grand Prix competition, Yuuri!"

Yuuri's stomach rumbled again, it was so tempting. He could just--But no, if Viktor wasn’t going to watch out for him, than he should do it himself. No one thought he was worth it but Viktor. He needed to do his best. And that started here. "It's my first event of the season."

Viktor narrowed his eyes, brought his finger to his lips. "If you win, we come back here and have a feast."

"With a gold around my neck, then fine. But for now we can eat at the hotel after warm ups."

"So responsible, my Yuuri." Viktor slid an arm around his waist and pulled him close. Yuuri thought that he may have even taken a sniff of his neck. 

"One of us has to be, or else we'd be dashing off to India just for a bit of curry." 

"Oh!" Viktor brought Yuuri impossibly closer. "That's an amazing idea!"

Yuuri rolled his eyes and pulled away from Viktor, grabbing his hand and leading him through the market. He knew they'd be back. Yuuri was rarely confident but this was a competition he knew he could win. 

~~~

The gold medal weighed heavily around Yuuri's neck. His first competition of the season, as Viktor's student, and he'd walked away with gold. 

Viktor had stood at the side of the rink with his hand out, waiting for Yuuri to place the gold prize in it. He felt his face flush, grateful that the lights were low for the medal ceremony, but he still slid it in and watched with his breath caught in his lungs, as Viktor lifted it up to a kiss. He kept Yuuri's gaze locked the entire time, only dropping it when he winked. "Time for your reward."

"I already have the medal."

"Your other reward..." Viktor trailed off, lifting a hand into the air as if he was displaying his words. "Sushi. Tempura!" 

Yuuri's stomach growled. "That sounds like a lot for only winning a non-Grand Prix event." 

Viktor dropped his hand and turned to face Yuuri. He was glaring and it made Yuuri want to escape, so he walked away from the boards towards the locker room. "Yuuuuuri!" He could hear Viktor shouting from behind him, unashamed and uncaring that he was making a scene. Yuuri snorted, the man was a walking scene, one that was in a city full of his favorites. 

But his absolute favorite was waiting for him in the corner of his locker. He wouldn't be able to stop Viktor from following him into the locker room but he could stop him from going into the bathroom stall with him, so Yuuri changed his tactics. Yuuri narrowed his eyes, thinking quickly. He wanted to distract Viktor, and he knew the quickest way to do that. He stepped back and took off his shirt, spinning it over his head like he’d seen in a movie once before tossing it at Viktor.

“Yuuri!” He left the shirt on his head, smiling wide and heart shaped from under it. “What are you doing?” 

“Is it that hard to figure out?” he asked, spinning back to his locker on his heel. He may have made an over exaggerated bend of his waist after he opened his locker and sifted through his clothes until he spotted the chips. Behind him, Viktor stepped closer but he only knew when he felt a hand run over his denim clad butt, squeezing lightly. Yuuri lowered his knees, let Viktor’s hands wander and fondle. The chips were right in front of him and if he could see them, that meant Viktor could too. He spun around, still lowered so he faced his stomach instead of his gaze. He flicked his gaze up, and Viktor was looking down at him with his mouth parted, cheeks flushed. Yuuri lowered onto his knees. 

“Yuuri, what--” Any question he had was answered when Yuuri brought his hands to Viktors skate pants, tugging the elastic over Viktor’s hardening cock. Every stuttered breath Viktor took, every gasp that slipped through his lips, spurred Yuuri on, emboldened him. Viktor’s focus was on him and him alone. 

When Viktor’s cock bounced freely between them, Yuuri looked up, biting his lip. “We should probably lock the door.”

Viktor moved fast towards the door, but not fast enough that Yuuri couldn’t turn back and pull his change of clothes and chips from the locker. With the pile hidden by his side, he had plenty of time to watch Viktor in all his glory walk back to him. Even with his cock out, or maybe because of it, Vitkor still swaggered when he walked, the fluorescent light catching the way his nipples poked through his skating shirt. He stopped in front of Yuuri, hands on his hips like he was waiting and the thought made Yuuri’s mouth water. Hunger. 

Yuuri opened his mouth and closed the space between them. The heavy weight of Viktor’s cockhead against this tongue made his eyes roll back in his head. Salty and musky, uniquely Viktor, and Yuuri wanted it all. He dove in, swallowing down his length until, above him, Viktor was moaning, loud and needy, gripping the hand not bracing himself on the locker into Yuuri’s hair. This wasn’t the first time Yuuri made Viktor make that sound, but it was the most public--anyone could hear, but no one would be able to enter, and something about that, about everyone knowing how good he made Viktor feel, made his dick twitch in his pants. He moved his palm to it, trying to push his need away, but Viktor noticed, his eyes dark and wet, he let his bottom lip free from his harsh bite and whispered, “Touch yourself, Yuuri. While you're--” Yuuri swallowed, feeling the tip of Viktor’s cock hit the back of his throat. “Ahhh, Yuuri, your mouth it’s...Touch yourself. I know you're hard and, yeah, yeah, just like that--I want to see.” 

How could he refuse Viktor? Especially when his gaze landed and fixed on his palm where it pressed against his cock, now hard and leaking. Yuuri nodded, unable to say more, wanting to keep his mouth on Viktor’s cock. He pulled at the elastic until his pants were bunched around his thighs. 

“Beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, and Yuuri matched the pace of his hand to the rhythm of his mouth and before long Viktor could only moan. Yuuri matched it with his own, sending vibrations up and down Viktor’s cock, and the next time the head hit the back of Yuuri’s throat, Viktor’s hand tightened around his hair in warning, which only made Yuuri suck harder. Salty come spilling over his tongue was his reward and the taste of it pushed Yuuri over the edge. 

They were both breathing hard and when Yuuri leaned back, Viktor fell to his knees next to him. Viktor pulled out a towel and passed it to Yuuri, cleaning themselves up. After dropping it to the floor, Viktor’s hand landed on the top of Yuuri’s pile of clothes, and the familiar crinkling sound of an inflated bag being squished. His chips. 

Yuuri reached across Viktor and grabbed the pile out from under his hand. “I’ll just change and then we can head out.” 

Viktor’s expression, soft from afterglow, turned into a frown. “Hmm? You don’t need to go anywhere for that--”

The shutting of the bathroom door cut Viktor off. Yuuri slipped in quickly, clothes wrapped around chips, and slid into the nearest stall. 

"Yuuri," Viktor shouted with a pout that Yuuri could visualize even through the door. "I wanted to watch you change."

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the door. Viktor had almost found out his secret. Even in that moment, wrapped up into each other, Yuuri had absolutely no idea how Viktor would react; it was scarier to stay than run. He rinsed out his mouth and then changed methodically, the bag of chips resting on his discarded clothes, catching his eye as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

When he opened his eyes again, the Sour Cream and Onion chips were there on top, waiting for him. He’d won the competition, then he experienced the intense pleasure that only Viktor could provide. The temptation of the chips wasn’t anything like that, but it was strong. His routine, his reward to himself from himself.

His Sour Cream and Onion Gold medal. 

He'd finally learned how to open the bag silently. Now that he lived with Viktor, it had become a necessity. Viktor was definitely still pouting. 

An idea came to mind before he even thought it through he acted, shooting his foot out to flush the toilet and then when it was making all its noise, he chewed as many chips as he could. Yuuri did it one more time, then stored the chips back in his bag. It had been a rush, and the taste--the sweet seasoning mixed with the salty grease of the chip--still lingered on his tongue. It felt like success, and when he looked down he smiled at the sight of crumbs sticking to the gold. 

He earned this; and a part of him knew he didn't have to hide it from Viktor, not after a win. But this was  _ his _ , something that he had done after every good performance, every satisfactory skate--and also after the bad ones, the ones that tore his heart out or ripped apart his body. "I'm almost ready," he called out to Viktor, because the man was undoubtedly just waiting for him to finish. "I'm excited about going back to the market. The fish looked delicious." And it would be, but it wasn't like this sneaked away snack that he gifted to himself.

Viktor started talking about all the food while Yuuri started to change into his mizumi sweats. When he opened the door, Viktor raked his gaze over him, stepping close to straighten the ribbon around Yuuri's neck. "Another world record."

Yuuri froze, shocked, but when Viktor didn't say anything more he swallowed and met his gaze. "Not so. This competition doesn't count for official rankings--"

Viktor barked a laugh, it was tight and laced with self-deprecation. "You think I don't know that?" He closed the space between them, wrapping an arm around Yuuri's back and pressing them flush together. "It doesn't matter to me where it happened, I saw a number even higher than the one you broke my World Record with and you know what?"

Yuuri shook his head unable to find his words. 

“It made me hungry. For food, for competition--” He brought their lips together, breaking away just as quick. “For you.” Viktor kissed down his neck before pulling back and stepping away, reaching for Yuuri’s hand and tugging him back towards his locker. “Are you hungry too?” he asked, the earlier heat mixing with what must’ve been an attempt at an innocent tone. “You certainly taste like you were.”

It took everything Yuuri had not to trip over his own feet. “Yeah--you know. Saw some food in my bag and thought it’d be good to stave off the worst of it.”

Viktor hummed. “I see.”

Before Viktor could ask anymore follow up questions, Yuuri gathered up his stuff and headed for the door. “Yup, but I’m still looking forward to the fish market!” 

Viktor beamed at him, following him out with a hand on Yuuri’s lower back. He leaned in close, making Yuuri’s neck erupt in goosebumps, to whisper, “Let’s go eat it all up.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and thank you festiveferret for the beta!

Yuuri left Viktor behind at the rink after practice. Nursing his wounds wasn’t even an appropriate metaphor for how horribly practice had gone. Viktor had been short with him from the beginning, and Yuuri had to bite his tongue. He wanted to remind his coach about the night before, how Viktor had tossed and turned before he finally left the bed, and that maybe  _ that  _ was why he was mad, and not because of Yuuri’s skating.

Yuuri had only managed to skate through his program clean once. By the time Viktor called an end to Yuuri’s practice, he’d fallen on both sides, on his right arm, his left wrist, and though he knew they weren’t serious, that they’d heal in day’s time, a part of him just wanted to barricade himself up in their bedroom with ice packs and dive into his bag of chips until he found the bottom. 

So that was exactly what he did. 

In the bottom of the nightstand drawer were three bags of sour cream and onion chips, and Yuuri closed the bedroom door and grabbed two of them, ripping one open and sliding to the floor near the bed. It only took a moment for Makkachin to push open the door and plop into his lap. It was enough to start to turn his mood, at least a little bit, the next crunch of chip and rush of flavors pushing him another step away from the rink.

Yuuri was home now, and as new as it was, it was starting to feel real. At first he had tiptoed, but now he was eating in the corner of his bedroom without that twist in his gut that this was wrong, or forbidden. At home, he was able to indulge. 

Practice on the other hand...It wasn’t every training session, but the ones where Viktor was stretched too thin were obvious for Yuuri to spot now--and he wasn’t the only one. More than once, from the center of the ice, Yuuri looked up, not towards his coach but to Yakov, who was surreptitiously watching through his office window. 

Times like these, Viktor wouldn’t shout. Worst still, he’d fret. Worry that he wasn’t good enough of a coach for Yuuri. And of course Viktor wouldn’t just say it, because he was Viktor. He’d wonder to himself, but to Yuuri and those near to him, the churning wheels in his mind were more than obvious. The accompanying furrow in his brow was a wedge in Yuuri’s gut too.

Yuuri grabbed another handful of chips and tossed them in his mouth. Resting his head against the bed, he let it all fade away--the rink and his program, coaching schedules and gym routines--until it was just him and the familiar taste of his favorite snack. 

Makkachin’s tail started to wag but Yuuri didn’t really think anything of it until he heard the wooden floor outside the hallway creak. “Yuuri, are you--” That was all the warning he got, before a silver head poked around the door, heart-shaped smile faltering as Viktor’s eyes searched for him before finally landing on where he was, hunched in the corner by the bed with a hand in his second bag of chips, the empty one next to him. He knew his face had to be covered in crumbs. It was like he was frozen in time, could only imagine his comically wide eyes. “--okay?” Viktor let the rest of the question fall from lips, confused. 

All at once, Yuuri rushed into motion, fisting the discarded bag and shoving it into his pocket. He pushed to his feet and brushed off the crumbs as quickly as he could, swallowing over and over to get the chips down before sending Viktor a nervous smile. “Viktor! Hi.”  _ Don’t you dare say piggy. _

“Are you…” Viktor stepped into the room, head tilting like Yuuri was a fascinating puzzle. “Excessively eating junk food in the corner of our bedroom?”

“Uh. ...yes?” 

“Oh,” Viktor replied. “Why?”

Yuuri felt his face flush and he swallowed again, this time around nothing but air. He shrugged, eyes on the chip remains in his lap. “Why not?”

Viktor hummed, like he was actually considering why it was a good idea or not but instead of answering he stepped forward and kneeled down next to Yuuri, pulling the bag of chips out of Yuuri’s hand. “You’re hiding treats from me?” 

Not a lecture or an insult, not a disappointed frown, but a pout. Because Yuuri had kept a snack hidden from him. 

Guilt and shame and embarrassment soured the sour cream and onion in Yuuri’s gut. His gaze flickered towards the nightstand. Viktor’s followed it. “Are there more snacks in there?” his usually not-perceptive-at-all fiancé asked. His grin looked anticipatory now, which was the only reason that he nodded. Yuuri found it was hard to deny Viktor anything, when his face brightened with excitement. 

Viktor was on his feet and by the nightstand in two short steps. “There’s one left!” he announced, as he pulled out the bag of chips. 

“Yup.” Yuuri knew exactly how many snacks he had at all times. “You can have that one,” he continued, not quite sure what was happening but certain that any fears he had about Viktor’s reaction were quickly evaporating. He’d never, ever willingly given up his stashed-away snacks. Until now. "It's my favorite"

Viktor beamed, pulling open the bag as he sat back down next to Yuuri, tossing a chip into his mouth and running his fingers idly through Makkachin’s fur with his other hand. “So good, Yuuri! I can see why these are your favorite.” He held out the bag. “Would you like more?”

Yuuri blushed and nodded. He always wanted more but he had no idea that the crisp bite would taste better with Viktor crunching along next to him. 

~~~

Yuuri opened his eyes to the sun, blinking and rolling over before opening them again. The first thing he saw was a granola bar peeking out from under Viktor’s pillow. It wasn’t his favorite snack, not by a long shot, and as Yuuri sat up he wondered how it managed to get in their bed. But then he remembered, it was  _ Viktor’s  _ favorite. 

He must have left it here, for Yuuri.

Rolling out of bed, Yuuri opened the snack and took a bite, walking out of their bedroom. Viktor had discovered his stash yesterday and, since he hadn’t seemed to care in any way Yuuri was worried about, he figured he no longer had to hide his snacking. 

It was the first of many hidden treats throughout the day, as if Viktor was trying to create stashes that he was now in on, after being taken by surprise last night. In his backpack was a bottle of soda, the day after that he pulled out two bags of chips from his hoodie pocket on their walk to the rink. 

Yakov was waiting for them at the other end of their walk, Viktor due on the ice first, while Yuuri planned to run his step sequence on his own. Yakov's frown, when his gaze narrowed in on the bag of chips, was enough of a lecture of its own. Next to him, though, Viktor didn’t seem to mind. He just handed the half-eaten bag to Yuuri and stepped up to grab Yakov’s arm, trying--and failing--to tug him to the office, going on about how to restructure his programs to ensure he’d win back his World Records.

Sometimes, Yuuri wondered if there was anything Viktor wanted more. But then, in the next step, Viktor was correcting Yurio’s landing on the ice. He wanted to win, but he also wanted to push the sport to its limits, and he wished no ill will to his competition. 

The determination fired Yuuri’s own and sent him straight to the ice, wanting to make sure he gave Viktor a hell of a battle. He made quick work of putting on his skates by the boards. When he glided onto the ice, he began a few loose circles, shaking out his limbs and warming up. The taste of chips lingered on his mouth but he didn’t feel the normal accompanying guilt. His heart no longer beat at double speed, fueled by the anxiety that someone--his couch, rinkmates, fans--would see how much he enjoyed food. Now he just recalled how on their walk, the seagulls seemed a bit more interested in them, how they squawked from above a bit louder today. Viktor didn’t help by crumbling up a few of the salty, greasy chips into his fist and throwing them up into the air, both of them laughing. 

Yuuri broke into a twizzle, the world spinning and joy bubbling in his chest. Everything was out in the open; he didn’t have to hide anymore. When he broke out of the twizzle, he crossed backwards once, twice, then propelled into a triple axle. He landed sure, certain, and someone beyond the boards clapped. 

It was only then that he remembered he was supposed to be focusing on his step sequence, saving his jumping energy for when Viktor could pay attention.

Viktor skating over to him not a moment later was a reminder of that. “Yuuri!--”

“I know! I know! No jumps.” 

Viktor chuckled. “That’s not what I was going to say,” he said. “I was coming over to hear to tell you how good you looked. Like you were floating.”

Yuuri blushed and shrugged. “Guess I just feel really good today.”

Viktor skated forward, slotting their skates together side by side, until they could wrap their arms around each other’s waists. “You look better than good,” Viktor whispered, leaning in for a quick kiss, broken off when their ankles were covered in snow.

Yurio had come to a swift stop, sending ice from the rink up to their skates. “Gross.”

“Viktor!” Yakov shouted across the rink. “I go into my office for a second and come out to this. Come back here! Before I make you skate suicides.” 

Viktor groaned, tensing in Yuuri’s arms before pushing away. 

“Go,” Yuuri agreed. “The last thing anyone wants is to skate back and forth the ice for no reason other than to exhaust you.”

“And to build stamina!” he corrected, pushing backwards and winking, as he headed back to Yakov. “Your coach doesn’t want you thinking they aren’t good for anything.”

Yuuri laughed. “They aren’t!”

“Viktor! Quad flip, now.”

Yakov didn’t make him skate suicides, but he did run him hard, leaving him nearly exhausted when it was time for him to start coaching Yuuri. It was obvious in the way he kept leaning on his palms, elbows on the boards. Socks with Makkachins covered his feet instead of skates and Yuuri couldn’t blame him, just harnessed the warmth from earlier and did his first full run-through of his free skate. 

He brought his arms up, letting the music fill him with each breath, even though it was only faintly playing through his cell phone by the boards. With each spin, he knew Viktor’s eye was on him and as he propelled into his first jump, the weight of it didn’t throw off his balance but helped him into a secure landing. The rest of the program was just as smooth, and when he came to his final pose, Mila was clapping from where she now stood next to Viktor. 

But his coach had a calculating look in his eye, one that spoke so loud that Yuuri couldn’t help asking about it. He felt good, though--light and assured that his skate was just as good as the one he skated at the Grand Prix Final, including even the quad flip. “Math?” he asked, as he came to a stop.

Viktor sighed dramatically. “I guess if my World Record is going to keep being warmed in someone else's hands, they're your hands.”

“And mine!” Yurio interjected from center ice. 

“And yours.” Viktor smiled, but tension pulled at the edges of it, the light not-quite dancing in his eyes. When he met Yuuri’s gaze, he straightened and clapped his hands, asking Yuuri to run through his jumps before going again. Leading Yuuri, coaching him, trying to make it seem like everything else was fine. One thing was more than clear, though: Viktor was not fine. 

The weight of that certainty pressed against Yuuri's shoulders, wobbled his first landing and made him step out of his second. “Pay attention!” Viktor coached him from the sidelines. Yuuri nodded before taking on a triple-double combo. The rest of practice was a pendulum, swinging between focus and distraction, between his jumps and Viktor’s well-being. 

When training came to an end, Viktor greeted him at the entrance of the rink with a hug. “That was wonderful--”

“But,” Yuuri continued, by now familiar with Viktor’s endless list of corrections. Yuuri saw it for what it was, the ability Viktor had to see him as better than he saw himself. He hadn’t understood it at first, only heard his own insecurities smacking him in the face through Viktor’s voice. But with Viktor’s faith, he considered having faith in himself. 

In the locker room, he stripped himself of his sweaty skate clothes, remembering Viktor’s sock clad feet, exhausted but still energized to coach Yuuri. He opened his locker and sitting on his fresh folded clothes was a bag of sour cream and onion chips. 

Viktor always met him where he was. Even after a hard, long practice--one that wasn’t perfect but still wonderful to Viktor--he was here for Yuuri. Giving him what he needed, what made him happy. Yuuri figured it was time to do the same for Viktor as well. 

####  ~~~

“Another one!” Viktor kicked at the blanket that covered their feet where they rested on the coffee table.

“We’ve been watching this show for…” Yuuri pressed lit up his phone to show him the time. “Six hours.”

Viktor shoved another fistfull off popcorn into his mouth before tossing a loose piece at Yuuri. “We have enough snacks to make it seven!”

Yuuri laughed. “Okay, okay.” 

When he came to sit back on the couch, Yuuri had to push around the snacks make space on the cushion. “A bit different than when you hid them in a drawer by the bed, huh?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri replied, automatically, because it was true. “I don’t miss the sneaking around and…”

“And?” Viktor prompted 

“It is nice, to treat myself for more than just a gold medal.”

Viktor picked up two bags of chips. One landed in Yuuri’s lap and the other was being held up by Viktor. “Cheers!” 

Viktor’s smile was contagious and he soon found himself lifting his own bag of chips and knocking it against Viktor’s, flushing at how silly Viktor could be sometimes. Yuuri leaned over and started the next episode, silence falling between them.

At first, it was the familiar silence of the two of them sitting side by side on the couch, but Viktor shifted next to him, once, then twice, hardly able to sit still during the last few scenes. When the episode ended, Viktor didn’t shout for another. 

Yuuri turned to him, saw that the man was thinking as loud as he could, shifting in his seat, fidgeting with his hands. “Viktor…?”

“I have a secret,” he blurted out. 

“I know.” Yuuri watched Viktor’s face flush pink. “I mean. I’ve noticed…”

Viktor’s gaze shuddered. “I thought I’d been doing well--”

“You have--” Yuuri assured. “You are.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“I know.” Yuuri reached across, grabbing Viktor’s hand, giving him strength like Viktor had given to him many times before. “We...can change something. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t been doing well, as both skater and coach.”

Viktor twisted his hand in Yuuri’s, interlocking their fingers. “I want my titles back.” There was a certainty in Viktor’s tone. 

“I’ll help you.” Yuuri smiled. “But only up to a point.” 

“Oh?” Viktor asked, bringing his hands to Yuuri’s sides, tickling lightly. 

Yuuri pushed his hands away, laughing. “You know you’d only be happy if I kept giving you fierce competition. We’ll find a balance.”

Viktor pulled at him again, this time bringing him close enough to nuzzle at his neck. “I know. Thank you.” 

####  ~~~

_ One Month Later _

Yuuri was standing by Yakov, eating a bag of sour cream and onion chips as he watched Viktor skate. But the chip froze in its path to his mouth because Viktor looked resplendent on the ice, all his focus narrowed in on his skating, yet it looked like no effort at all. With each quad Viktor landed, Yakov tapped his finger on the top of the boards, as if keeping rhythm. 

Yakov's eye flickered to the chips for less than a second before his focus was back on Viktor. “Skate Canada is in less than a week,” Yakov said after a moment, voice low, at the peak climax of Viktor’s step sequence.

Yuuri’s breath was caught from the beauty of Viktor’s skating, but he still managed a reply. “I’m aware. Seeing as I’m favored to win it.”

Yakov snorted. “Viktor helped you realize your worth,” he stated, words certain. “Good.”

They both watched Viktor finish, coming out of a glorious quad flip with not even a layer of sweat flushing his cheeks. “Yuuri! I saw you arrive and wanted to skate over but didn’t.”

Yuuri laughed, the fact that Viktor was declaring this as a great accomplishment told Yuuri everything he needed to know about his mood. He was light, jovial, and Yuuri couldn’t help but indulge him. “Good job!”

“What are you doing here?”

They’d decided, during a snack filled marathon, that Viktor would stop trying to do two things on the same day. They divided the week so that every other day he alternated between Yuuri and Yakov, and when Yuuri wasn’t on the ice with Viktor he was cross-training with Lilia Baranovskaya or at the gym with Yurio or Mila. It seemed to be working, for both of them. They’d found it, an equilibrium. 

“I brought us some dinner.” Yuuri gestured to his backpack. “Thought we could go watch the sunset in the park before we headed home.” 

“The park by the shop in the alley? The one with all the snacks? Let’s go after!” Viktor beamed. 

For the first time in Yuuri’s life, there was nothing he needed to hide, no one he needed to hide from. He could just be, without fear. He met Viktor’s smile with one of his own. “Yeah, okay. Let’s.”

_fin_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Come say hi on tumblr at: [ashes0909](http://ashes0909.tumblr.com)


End file.
